


The Road to Hell

by Ensardens



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ensardens/pseuds/Ensardens
Summary: When Anna asked for Uriel's help that night in 1978, he'd expected that it had been mandated from Heaven. Learning that it wasn't, that his captain had been working against their superiors, disquiets Uriel more than he'd ever like to admit. Michael's reaction doesn't help matters. After learning of his future death, and of the celestial leaders' apathy towards it, he is forced to contemplate his place in Heaven... and whether he can do anything about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a character study on Uriel, basically. I have a feeling that the events in 1978 and his plan to free Lucifer are not entirely unconnected. So I wanted to explore it a bit.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not actually saying that Anna's choice was evil or that I agree with Uriel's plan to free Lucifer. It kinda sounds like it in the fic, but it's more me showing that I understand how he might come to that decision.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment with your thoughts or constructive criticism! I'm also at izanablr.tumblr.com or ensardens.tumblr.com if you want to talk there.

The snap of Michael’s fingers was all the warning Uriel had before he was thrown back to Heaven, ripped from his vessel. Normally, he would be pleased to be back in his true form, but the added strain of having an archangel forcibly remove him left the outermost part of him smarting. He supposed he should just be thankful Michael hadn’t killed him the same way he’d done Anna.

Anna.

He had to admit, seeing his superior die so brutally left him feeling uneasy, to say the least. Uriel hated watching his brethren die, even the ones he didn’t know very well, but there was something even worse when it was an angel he respected. He didn’t always agree with Anna, but she was a good leader, and up until this point he’d trusted her judgment.

But she’d led him right into this scenario knowing that they were working against Heaven’s wishes without informing him. She’d played his weaknesses, knowing that he enjoyed doing the very task he was designed for, and cast it in a way that made it seem like he could prevent his own death.

And there was a can of worms he didn’t want to open.

Uriel found himself craving his brothers’ company. He wanted Castiel’s blunt honesty to reassure him that two little humans couldn’t stand up to the full might of his angelic kin, or Balthazar’s snide remarks about the incompetence of hunters to make him laugh. Hell, he’d even take Bartholomew droning on about his war stories, if it meant having someone familiar by his side.

It still shocked him that Anna would go against Heaven. Sure, she pushed boundaries regularly and suffered the consequences for each infraction, but they all were a little disobedient in their own ways. Even Cas, with his newfound insistence on following the rules to the letter, would sometimes voice his concerns with Heaven’s motives. But there was a difference between bending the rules and outright breaking them, and the actions of his garrison’s captain (even if she was from a different time) were completely out of the ordinary.

Then again, Anna hadn’t been the same for a while now. She was always angry and frustrated, with Heaven, with her superiors, with her garrison. Uriel suspected even with God. She didn’t talk to them the way she used to, but occasionally she’d find one of them and speak so intensely of another way, a better way, that it scared them. Anna would always leave frustrated, though, when no angel she talked to seemed to understand what she meant.

Come to think of it, Anna wasn’t the only angel to change, as her behavior was mirrored by her subordinates. Castiel had grown quieter, more solemn, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’d clamped down so hard on anything he was feeling that Uriel wondered how much of his brother was actually left. Castiel used to laugh with him, but anymore Uriel could hardly get more than the occasionally twitch of his wing, the only evidence of his amusement. On the other end of the spectrum, Balthazar had grown reckless, ignoring orders in favor of watching the less than holy activities of certain humans. Inias, Rachel, and Hester were quieter and kept the ideas they had previously had little problem sharing to themselves, preferring to obey whatever command their superiors gave them.

Uriel supposed even he was not immune to the changes that had been slowly overtaking his brethren. Anger had been slowly burning in him for quite some time, and he had no doubt that it was affecting his actions. Even now, he could feel that anger intensifying, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he was angriest with. Certainly, he was enraged that two little humans would ultimately kill him. Him! He who had spent the past several hundred million years ensuring their creation and guarding them against evils. But that anger only ran skin deep.

He was also angry at Anna, someone he’d trusted to lead him justly and without ulterior motives, and that trust had been irrevocably broken today. However, Uriel also understood that Anna never did anything without a reason, and that reason usually revolved around what she felt was right. He doubted he’d ever understand her reasons, doubted he’d even agree with them if he did know, but he knew with certainty that her motives were not malicious in origin. She’d also given him sight into the future, knowledge that Heaven would never have shared. So while he was frustrated with her, that frustration was also slightly tempered by understanding.

He didn’t have any longer to reflect, however, as a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I trust you’ll keep what you just witnessed to yourself.”

Uriel whirled around. Michael stared down at him, not speaking further, but his intent was clear. Uriel rushed to explain his case.

“Obviously. Michael, Anna said that those humans are going to kill me. She offered me a chance to prevent that.”

Michael continued to stare at him, the picture of apathy. “So?”

“Well,” Uriel started, trying to keep his voice steady, “you see, I don’t actually want to die.”

“And you thought that justified ignoring a direct order not to interfere with the humans?”

“I assumed that she was still acting on behalf of Heaven. I’ve been given similar missions by Anna before.”

“You should know better than to assume such things.”

Uriel tried to quell his frustration. “We aren’t permitted to question or doubt the authority of our superiors. How was I supposed to go about finding the truth if I can’t question anything my bosses say?”

Michael’s expression darkened, and Uriel felt a flash of fear. But the anger still burned within him, and he didn’t regret his words. Michael couldn’t fault him for this, not when the mandates of Heaven were responsible for it.

Despite all logic, however, it seemed as though Michael _could_ fault him. Uriel felt something tighten around his form, disrupting the flow of grace. He imagined this was what humans felt when their windpipes were squeezed.

“You would do well to remember who you are talking to, Uriel. You are alive because I am merciful, no other reason. Cross Heaven again, and it won’t be those humans who bring about your demise.”

Michael disappeared, taking with him that horrible crushing sensation, and Uriel shuddered. Oh, how he longed for his brothers’ company, but Michael had forbid him from talking about what had happened. And he wasn’t entirely sure that he could make up a convincing enough lie for why he wasn’t as lively as usual. No, they would see right through him.

But there was somewhere else he might go for a few moments of peace.

Joshua’s garden was as beautiful as he remembered. Acres upon acres of flora, plants long extinct alongside species that had developed within the last century. Uriel couldn’t see the angel in question himself yet, but he knew he was around somewhere.

Uriel wandered through a copse of needled evergreens, enjoying the way his true form towered over them. He was careful not to knock any over, however, as Joshua was not known for kind words when the integrity of his garden was threatened.

He headed into the deeper forest, watching the trees become larger and larger, until he had to lift his wings to keep them from brushing the tops. It wasn’t long until he heard another voice behind him.

“Do you really perceive my garden as such a mess? Really, Uriel, these sequoias have no place among the kapok trees!”

Uriel turned towards Heaven’s gardener. “They’re all tall, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but they require drastically different growing conditions! Couldn’t you just see the Garden of Eden or God’s thrown like everyone else?

“Don’t I get some points for creativity? Most base their perceptions off places they’ve already seen. _I_ don’t have such limitations,” Uriel replied, grinning.

Joshua threw his arms up into the air, exasperated. “And for good reason! The disorder in this place makes my wings itch.”

“I think the humans have ointment for that.” And, oh, Uriel was going to treasure the look Joshua gave him for decades. Heaven’s groundskeeper wasn’t usually easy to shock, and quickly enough it faded, amusement taking its place.

“I’m assuming you didn’t come here just to annoy me, so what’s troubling you?” Joshua asked, and Uriel’s smug expression faded.

“Just… everything’s changed,” he said, avoiding Joshua’s gaze, “Or maybe it hasn’t. Maybe it’s me.”

“Uriel, we’ve known each other a long time, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Old and wise though I may be, I can’t actually read your mind. You’re going to have to be more specific if you want help.”

Uriel sighed. “It’s… complicated. I’m forbidden from speaking of it, and I’m a little nervous even admitting that there’s anything to tell.”

Joshua nodded knowingly, and Uriel thought he detected a bit of sympathy flickering across Joshua’s face. He hesitated for a moment, then began speaking slowly, “Well, as I said, unless you tell me, I won’t know what happened. However… I do talk to someone who does.”

Uriel looked up at Joshua, confused. “Michael? I didn’t think you two were close. He’s never seemed like the ‘sit in a garden to brood’ type to me.”

Joshua chuckled. “Not Michael. You’re right; he rarely comes here anymore. I’m talking about someone who sees and knows all.”

“Our Father?” Uriel asked, lowering his voice automatically.

“Yes,” Joshua replied, “He speaks to me sometimes, asking how my garden’s going or wanting to tell me about a funny thing some human has done.”

“He… thinks the humans are funny?”

“Most of the time. He’s quite fond of the more innocent forms of their humor. You should have heard Him when they invented the Whoopee cushion.”

Uriel felt a flash of irritation. “I’m sure I would have liked to.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Joshua replied, looking a little contrite, “He’s not the easiest being to understand, you know. I was just trying to give you a few of the little things I’ve picked up over the years.”

And just like that, Uriel felt guilty. Of course Joshua was only trying to help, and it wasn’t fair of him to take his frustration out on him.

“I’m sorry.”

Joshua chuckled again. “You know, those are two words that I’m always surprised to hear from you. I feel honored.”

“I’m not that bad,” Uriel replied flatly. On the bright side, he didn’t feel so guilty anymore. He sighed before continuing.

“So is that all He talks about? Petty human toys?”

“He sometimes says more,” Joshua ventured, “But I’m not at liberty to discuss those things.”

Uriel scoffed. “Of course. Angels aren’t allowed to know _useful_ things anymore. I suppose wanting help is _asking too much_.”

Joshua was very quiet for a moment.

“I want you to listen closely, Uriel,” he said, his gaze far too intense to break, “God knows what happened. He watched it happen, understands _why_ it happened, and could probably even propose a few solutions, but no matter what it is, He won’t interfere. Know this, though. God’s divine intervention is hardly your only option. Go to your brothers. _Trust them_. You don’t need God to fix what is broken.”

Joshua held his eyes for a moment longer, worry written across his face, then turned to tend to a patch of prehistoric ferns. Uriel said nothing. He had had suspicions that his Father no longer concerned Himself with them, but Joshua’s confirmation still shook him. Their Father didn’t care. All this time, all their effort to complete the mission He gave them, and He had completely given up on them.

When he really thought about it, though, he found that he wasn’t all that surprised. It did leave quite a conundrum, however. If God was no longer commanding them, then where were the orders coming from?

He heard Castiel’s voice then, calling him back to Earth. It seemed as if his break was over. He bid Joshua goodbye, and then turned to leave. As he took flight, the beat of his wings was followed by a faint, “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, the lepidodendron went extinct millennia ago!”

 

He arrived in a small park, completely empty except for a patrolling officer a few hundred meters away. The sun had long set, not that Uriel needed light to see, but it set an ominous feel to the park. Uriel couldn’t tell if it was specific to this park in this moment or if he was simply seeing the way the trees reached over the playground equipment like hooked claws for the first time. Odd, though, that he noticed it now, when so many times before the difference between night and day was inconsequential. How had his world view shifted so much in such a short time that a little thing like the lack of light could be of any importance to a being that could generate its own?

His inner musings were interrupted by a familiar figure approaching him.

“Where’ve you been?” Castiel asked. It could have been a pointed question. It might just be general curiosity. Uriel couldn’t tell with Cas anymore.

“In Heaven’s garden, upsetting the groundskeeper with my lackluster understanding of plant ecology.”

“You were with Joshua?” Castiel asked, face softening.

“Yeah. Did you know he talks to God?” Uriel said before remembering that it was supposed to remain a secret. Oops. He couldn’t even blame Cas’ tenacity for that.

Castiel’s features lit up, more animated than Uriel had seen him in centuries. “Really? I thought our Father only spoke through His messengers.”

“Ah, well, that’s what I heard at least,” he replied, trying to salvage the situation. He couldn’t outright lie to Cas; he’d never been able to. But he also knew that Cas was like a sponge with information, especially when he thought he might be able to use it to his advantage in the future. It was best not to tell him the whole truth quite yet, at least without Joshua’s blessing.

“Oh,” Cas said, deflating a bit, “Still, a rumor that our Father is still with us is better than nothing.”

Uriel’s heart broke, and he struggled to retain his composure as he answered, “Of course.”

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side. Apparently Uriel wasn’t as good at acting around his brother as he’d thought. He’d have to improve on that.

“It was a long day, that’s all.”

Castiel continued to stare at him in disbelief. “Time hardly has any meaning to us, Uriel. What do you mean, ‘it was a long day?’”

“It’s none of your damn business is what I mean,” Uriel replied impatiently.

His tone shattered Cas’ detached attitude for a moment, and Uriel felt a flash of guilt. He didn’t like being mean-spirited towards Cas, even if he wasn’t opposed to it in general, but the stress of the day was wearing him thin. Cas recovered quickly, and moved to stand beside him, staring off towards the tree line.

Finally unable to bear the silence any longer, Uriel spoke again. “You know I’d tell you if I could, brother.”

“I know.”

Cas didn’t say anything else, and Uriel couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or just letting it go. He made a frustrated noise, which drew Cas’ attention again. Cas looked at him curiously before seeming to realize the problem.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Uriel. I understand that sometimes we get orders we cannot share with anyone.”

Uriel relaxed a little. Of course Cas was letting it go. He could be more manipulative than anyone, but Uriel should have remembered that his brother wasn’t cruel by nature, especially towards those he loved. It was that thought that prompted him to share some of his fears.

“Are you sure we’re on the right path?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment. “We’re in a park, not on a path, Uriel.”

“No, I mean, do you ever have doubts about what we do and why we do it?”

“Of course not,” Castiel answered a little too quickly, “Our orders come from Heaven, and so there is no reason to doubt them.”

 “But what if our mission isn’t really divine, Cas? What if Lucifer was right about the humans?”

Castiel stiffened, fear washing over his features, then he turned angrily to Uriel. “Don’t say that. You know how blasphemy is punished.”

“I know, I know, but sometimes… sometimes I doubt that He really cares at all,” Uriel confessed, waiting for Cas to rip into him further. His brother was as loyal to God as they came. It was almost as if he was afraid not to be.

To his surprise, however, Castiel said nothing, and instead fixed him with an odd look.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… Anna said something similar today,” Cas answered, watching him carefully. Uriel suppressed the urge to sigh. He really didn’t want to think about Anna right now.

“Yeah, well, that just goes to show that you should listen to me more, brother,” Uriel replied, letting a touch of playfulness into his voice, “I’m clearly the wiser of the two of us.”

Castiel snorted, and Uriel tried not to think about how that was the closest thing to a laugh that he’d gotten out of Cas in a long time. Luckily, he couldn’t dwell on it for more than a second, because Castiel bumped Uriel with a wing, disrupting his darkening thoughts. Uriel playfully shoved back, letting the familiarity of his brother’s levity soothe him.

The moment faded all too soon, though, and the cold rigidity that had become such a constant in Castiel was back. It was only then that it struck Uriel what he was so angry about. It wasn’t his possible fate, or Anna’s actions, or even Michael’s dictatorial rule of Heaven that had him so up in knots.

It was helplessness. All his power, all his eons of experience, and he could do nothing to stop the toll Heaven’s ever tightening grip was having on him and his brethren. He couldn’t get through to Castiel when his emotions were so locked down, or connect with Anna when she so obviously wanted to be somewhere else. He was isolated, he was alone, and he was helpless. And Uriel couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be like this if they weren’t eternally bound to the overgrown monkeys.

For a few seconds, Uriel felt relieved. He knew what was wrong, and now he simply needed to find a way to fix it. Joshua had said to trust his brothers… but now Uriel thought of one in particular, one who refused to bow down, one who had _always_ advocated for the well-being of his brothers. He had a feeling that that was hardly what Joshua meant, however, especially since the angel was actually talking with God, and Uriel had to admit that the idea terrified him. If it didn’t work, if he failed, worse fates than death awaited him. But wasn’t it worth it, if it meant helping his brothers and sisters? If it meant freedom?

Uriel could do this, could free his brothers and sisters from their chains and bring them all _peace._ He looked back over at Castiel, who despite his obvious discomfort at the turn their conversation had taken, continued to stand at Uriel’s side.

 _I’ll figure out a way to fix this, brother,_ Uriel thought, _I’ll save us all._ _You’ll see._

 

 


End file.
